


Like Jenga

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Non-Stop Gifts/AUs [14]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Sex, Consensual Violence, M/M, Pain Kink, St. Andrew's Cross, Under-negotiated Kink, switch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are pieced together like jenga.  Each facet of their personalities stacked one by one, side by side, precariously placed in an ever climbing tower.  And when they learn something new about the other person, a piece is removed.  Set to the side.  And the tower starts to sway. </p><p>____________</p><p>John's not usually willfully submissive.  But sometimes...he starts to fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Koramberlynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koramberlynne/gifts).



> Part of the Non-Stop Universe, probably best to read the fics in this universe to fully understand this, but can be read as a stand alone if you're willing to accept certain liberties.

They are pieced together like jenga.  Each facet of their personalities stacked one by one, side by side, precariously placed in an ever climbing tower.  And when they learn something new about the other person, a piece is removed.  Set to the side.  And the tower starts to sway. 

It’s early days. 

John’s still trying to figure out who he is.  Let alone what  _ this  _ is.  He’s never been friends with someone like this.  Never slept with someone besides Alex before.  It’s not that he never wanted to.  He just always thought that maybe he and Alex were something special.  And there wasn’t a need for anyone else.  

John’s relatively convinced he’s being stupid, but he refuses to call it that.  He even tells Lafayette that exact thing more than once.  “I’m not stupid, I’m not.”  Lafayette never calls him that, but there’s a look in his eye like he thinks John’s just being oh so very  _ precious.  _  If he’s being honest with himself, John hates it. 

It makes him want to punch Lafayette’s face in until it bleeds red.  Then beat it a bit more.  Until the skin turns purple and the muscle tears and— Lafayette kisses the side of his head.  “Mon petit monstre.”

Lafayette’s lips are warm.  His embrace...comforting.  It stops the buzzing in John’s head.  Momentarily.  Just a little.  And sometimes, John can imagine letting go.  Can imagine lowering his guard and sliding down to his knees.  Seeing what it feels like. 

Alex does it.  John’s seen him do it time and time again.  And John knows what it’s like to be in Lafayette’s shoes when it happens.  Knows how it feels to have someone submit so beautifully to you.  So perfectly.  

The embraces are usually quick though.  In and out.  Not restraining.  Not confining.  Just...a taste.  A suggestion.  No.  Not even that.  It’s just friendly.  Lafayette’s always friendly.  

“I wonder if you could assist me with something over break?” Lafayette asks him when it looks like John’s going to spend his Spring Break alone.  John’s not sure if Lafayette knows what his plan was, slum around back in his home town and maybe find a place to sleep while Alex does God knows what with  _ who  _ knows what.  But in any case, the request is welcome.  He doesn’t even complain all that much as Lafayette makes the arrangements. 

He wants to drive south to pick up something.  It’s big and heavy and he needs an extra pair of hands to get it.  Lafayette promises, “It’s already disassembled, it’s just a matter of moving it.” 

“What is it?” John asks. “Exactly?” 

His Not-Boyfriend doesn’t  _ exactly  _ reply.  Just makes a vague sound.  Mumbles about how there wasn’t a point in buying it now.  How he won’t even be able to use it.  But maybe someday.  The price was right. 

John huffs. “Never thought you gave a damn about money.”  

“I don’t, Lafayette promises.  “But I do like quality.” 

John shrugs. 

He doesn’t think about it again for a long time. 

***

The car trip south takes a while.  John learns that Lafayette’s a responsible driver.  He’ll speed, sure.  But he doesn’t speed perilously.  He’s always aware of the turns and his directionals.  John’s hand unclamps from the side of the door, and he doesn’t feel the need to jump every few seconds.  

There’s one moment where another car cuts them off, and John swears a blue streak, but it’s over and done with quickly.  Lafayette watches him from the corner of his eye, and John tries to pretend that he’s fine.  He’s cool.  He’s good. 

He’s okay. 

He starts playing with the radio. 

It takes nearly a full day to get down to the elderly couple’s garage.  But when they pull in, John can’t help but squint at the building.  It’s a small little farm house with a barn out back.  The couple meets them at the door, both in their late sixties or so.  They call Lafayette by name and shake his hand. 

John lurks behind, not offering to include himself in the exchange.  Just loitering in silence.  Lafayette glances back to see if John wants to come with, but he doesn’t.  He waits by the car and Lafayette’s led in to look at whatever it is he’d come here to buy.  John half hopes it’s a really pretentious lions head or something. 

Something that can sit out front and be properly useless. 

“Cookie?” the elderly woman asks as he kicks a pebble with his toe.  He might not care too much about Lafayette, but he’s got a thing about disrespecting women.  He smiles sheepishly at her and shakes his head. 

“No thanks, ma’am.”  She grins at him.  But waves him over regardless. 

“Then have a glass of lemonade them.  I insist.”  John’s feet shuffle as he walks toward her.  His hand takes hers and he can’t help but offer assistance as they walk up the porch stairs.  She smiles and pats his arm.  

Tells him to sit down and starts setting food in front of him.  Cookies.  Lemonade.  Some crackers.  

John’s a nervous eater.  If there’s food in front of him.  He has a tendency to eat it, and stuff it in his pockets to save for later.  Alex used to tease him.  Call him a hamster.  A hoarder.  He’s right, but John can’t really bring himself to care.  “You have a lovely house ma’am.” 

“Thank you, it’s been in the family for ages.”  Lafayette’s laugh echos from the garage, and John turns toward it naturally.  He can’t see him through the window.  “Did you have a nice drive down?”  Even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t tell her that.  He smiles politely.  He engages in small talk.  Stealing three cookies and finishing two glasses of lemonade before he hears movement and has an excuse to hurry along. 

He steps outside just as Lafayette gives him a smile.  “All is good, shall we?” he asks John with a grin.  

“What is it again?” John asks.  

“Just some lumber,” Lafayette replies with a small lift of his shoulder.  “Hurry, hurry.”  

_ Just some lumber _ turns out to be several interlocking pieces that have all been set to the side.  They’re wrapped in pallet wrap, and Lafayette heaves on one side while John heaves on the other.  They lift up the sections and carry them to the car.  Sliding it through the back.

It just barely fits in the vehicle.  Needing to lay between the front seats in order to squeeze in.  John scowls and mumbles about it, but Lafayette doesn’t care.  He pays the couple.  Promises he’ll have fun with it, and accepts a baggie full of cookies for them to share on the way back up to school. 

John dozes some in the car, but is still awake enough to help Laf lug it all back into the house.  Lafayette has him stuff it in the back of his basement.  Far in the corner.  Hidden behind half his exercise equipment.  “You’re not even going to set it up?”  John asks, irritated. 

“Not now,” Lafayette tells him.  “There’s no point in it now.” 

Irritation fills John’s heart as he scowls at the lumber.  It feels like they’ve left the job incomplete.  Like there’s something more that they should be doing.  Like this isn’t enough.  John scowls.  He wants to do something.  Anything.  And is only slightly mollified when Lafayette traces a hand along his spine.  Presses both hands into his shoulders.  Says, “Your muscles are in knots,” while plastering himself against John’s back.  Nipping at his ear.  “Better let me rub you down.”

John leans back into his hold.  Turns his head.  Their lips meet, and okay.  John can do this now. 

This could be fun. 

Lafayette’s arms shift and turn.  Push him a touch.  John can feel it.  The knife’s edge.  The push and pull.  Go to his knees, or fight back.  Which one?  Which one?  He presses his lips harder against Lafayette.

Can feel his back being pressed against a wall. 

The phone rings, and Lafayette curses.  John blinks at him.  Slow and languid.  It feels like his brain isn’t quite working properly.  Signals not sending and receiving as they should.  His head feels foggy, and Lafayette’s stepping away.  

Warmth leaks from John’s limbs.  His cheeks grow cold, then his shoulders, neck, chest, arms, all the way down to his toes.  Lafayette answers the phone in a slew of French that John doesn’t care to understand.  He adjusts his clothes and starts going upstairs.  

He feels like their tower is starting to sway. 

***

Lafayette likes to tell John that if they’re going to box, fight, spar, they need to wrap their knuckles.  Wear gloves.  “You wouldn’t want to hurt your pretty hands would you?” he asks as threads their fingers together.  John shrugs awkwardly.  He’s never really thought about it. 

It’s a quiet day.  Nothing’s really happened.  John spent some time with Alex and Aaron.  It’d been quiet.  Soft.  Alex had fluttered his eyes at Aaron and parted his lips.  Tilted his head.  Teasing and submissive.  John had watched Alex and wanted.  Yearned.  He bit his lip.  He hesitated.

Lafayette’s in front of him.  Looping cloth about his hands.  John lets his lashes flutter.  He sighs.  Pitches his voice just so.  He’s mocking Alex, but it’s not really a mock.  Not really a tease.  It’s just.  He wants to see what Lafayette will do.  Wants to know if this is what Lafayette prefers. 

His Still-Don’t-Have-A-Name-For-It reacts as John expected. His fingers squeeze around John’s, and it’s all John needs.  He sinks to his knees.   _ I’m just playing pretend,  _ he thinks to himself.  Parting his lips and arching his neck back.  “Laf…” he whines.  It’s Alex’s voice.  Everyone always wants to sleep with Alex, and John’s slept with him enough to know how he sounds.  To know how he reacts.  To play this role perfectly. 

“Can I…?” John’s never this touchy.  Never this needy.  And a part of him is fully aware of it.  There’s a difference.  Playing Alex is just his way of easily getting Lafayette to do what he wants.  Lafayette’s predictable.  He calls John all kinds of names he usually reserves for Alex.  He strokes John in ways John’s never been stroked.  And it all feels vaguely unreal. 

Still.  John likes knowing all he has to do is smile prettily at Lafayette and he can make Lafayette do whatever he wants. 

Lafayette pins him down.  Holds his hands behind his back and relishes in the mewling whines that he produces from the back of his throat.  Matched to perfect tone and pitch of his best friend.  Lafayette growls in his ear.  Presses against his body.  Thrusts once or twice against his ass, and John tries to grind back.  Tries to shimmy so his shorts start to slide. 

He’s caught in the middle.  A hand on his hip.  “Oh no,” Lafayette laughs.  “Oh no. Not until you beg.”

“Please,” John begs.  It doesn’t quite take the edge off. 

It’s not exactly what he wants.  But it’s easier right now. 

Easier like this. 

Nobody needs to know. 

“Please.” 

“That’s it petite...that’s it...You’re all mine, pet.”

The spell is broken.  “I’m not your petite,” he can’t help but snap.  Lafayette freezes.  Holds still.  Waits.  Even playing pretend, John doesn’t want to be called anything except for who he is.  “Don’t...don’t call me someone else’s name…” Some of the nicknames were fine.  But some are not right.  Not for him.  And he—

“Mon amour,” Lafayette whispers.  “Mon amour.”  That’s right. 

That one’s good. 

John closes his eyes.  It’s almost good enough to fall. 

He’s too scared to let go. 

***

He’s been playing Alex for weeks.  He hasn’t started wearing dresses or anything, but he did straighten his hair once.  He wore...not a  _ nice  _ shirt...but something that he stole from Alex’s closet.  Not like Alex would even notice. 

Lafayette came home and stared at him.  Wanton.  Desperate.  It’s so easy to play pretend.  It’s so easy to tease him and let Lafayette mark his body up.  To whine and squeal.  To beg.  He’s getting better and better at it.  Better at giving Lafayette what he wants.  Better at being good. 

Even if there’s a switch.  Even if there’s a feeling of restrained amongst it all.  He’s holding back.  He knows it.  He can feel it.  Feel it slipping past the point of pretending.  Past the point of fighting and nonsense.  There’s a burning in his chest.  “Don’t pussyfoot around,” he tells Lafayette after the man threatened to strap him if he didn’t behave himself. “I  _ want _ it to hurt.” 

That’s not necessarily true.  But there’s confusion there.  Complication.  John shifts about awkwardly and tries not to think about it too deeply.  He just shakes his hair.  Lets it fall all around him in a curtain.  It hides his face and makes him feel good.  

And tomorrow they’ll fight.  They’ll punch and scratch and break each other’s skin.  They’ll bite and they’ll claw.  They’ll tend to each other’s wounds.  They’ll curl up side by side and breathe in each other’s sweat.  Is it strange John likes the smell of Lafayette’s sweat? 

God. 

What’s happening to him? 

***

Really. 

It was leading up to this all along. 

The day had been awful.  Stressful.  John’s been fighting school and classmates.  He’s argued with bigots and assholes.  His car broke down on his way home, and he had a terrifying moment of panic that lasted until a good samaritan came by to help him get it going again.  His heart hammered in his chest the whole while, and even right this second, he’s feel like everything’s just a bit too much. 

Lafayette’s not home at first.  It’s just him.  Standing in Lafayette’s house.  And he doesn’t want...to think.  He doesn’t want to play pretend.  He’s too exhausted to fight.  To get it all out. But he needs—he wants—

The door opens.  “I’m home,” Lafayette says a touch unnecessarily.  John stares at him.  His eyes blink so slowly he knows he must look deranged.  The door closes behind Lafayette.  John manages to say  _ welcome home.  _

Then his knees give out beneath him. 

Lafayette takes a step closer.  Then another.  He kneels in front of John and wraps his arms around him.  Holds him close.  It’s so warm.  So nice.  John sighs into the embrace...and for a moment in time...everything is silent.

It’s just what he needs. 

***

Lafayette didn’t fuck him that night.  Nor the next day when John awkwardly wandered around the house. Blanket pulled up around his shoulders as Lafayette nuzzled him.  Fetched him tea.  Kissed his face.  “We should talk,” Lafayette tells him instead. 

They really should. 

“You’re a switch,” John’s told with finality.  He manages to nod.  He doesn’t know what the word really means besides the obvious connotations.  But he can assume.  “You prefer to top,” Lafayette continues.  “But...sometimes you need this?” 

It’s not the first time  _ this  _ has happened.  It just, never happened when someone was around to do something about it.  He’d let Alex beat him when they wrestled in the past.  Let him fuck him.  It took the edge off.  Kept him from feeling the  _ need  _ to just...crumple for a little while at least. 

Sometimes he just really would like it if someone really could take charge.  

Lafayette holds out his hand, and John takes it.  Lets Lafayette lead him downstairs.  For a moment, John thinks they’re going to spar.  But instead, Lafayette has him get the lumber out.  The wood has been hiding behind everything for nearly three months now.  But it’s out now. 

Out, and together they put it together. 

John flushes when he realizes what they’re making.  “The couple I bought it from used it a few times, apparently,” Lafayette muses as they put the final touches in it.  “But then there was an accident and well.  Their hips aren’t as good as they used to be.” 

As horrifying as that thought is, John finds the fact he hadn’t known any better to be even more horrifying.  He flushes.  Shifts his feet.  Doesn’t know what to say.  Lafayette doesn’t seem to expect him to say anything, though.  Just gently lifts his arms.  Walks him forward.  “What would you do if I told you to keep your hands just like this?” 

“Don’t go,” John whispers.  He’s trembling.  

Lafayette steps in.  Steps in and presses him against the cross.  Holds his hands up against the wood.  But his front is molded to John’s back, and John can feel his eyes starting to slip shut.  His neck bending.  Curls falling to the sides.  “My boy,” Lafayette tells him.  “My good boy.  My good boy.” 

John wonders if it’s possible to just slip away forever. 

The tower is shaking. 

Shaking. 

Shaking. 

It falls. 

***

John’s eyes are closed.  His skin is singing.  His body is relaxed.  Lafayette never leaves him.  He’s always there.  A hand on his shoulder.  His hip.  His arm.  He talks when he needs to shift position.  Never stopping.  Always right there.  Always.  

They’ve done this only a handful of times.  But each time is more draining than any fight John’s ever gotten into.  More rewarding too.  Sometimes, Lafayette will put a blindfold on John.  On those days, he’s meticulous about keeping contact with John.  Never leaving him.  Not for a moment.  But other times, he’ll let John keep his sight, but at the cost of his mouth. 

Not a big trade off as things go.  John doesn’t like talking as it is.  And the gag kind of feels nice.  It’s different.  John can’t describe it.  But there’s a kind of weakness that John relishes in like this.  He’ll close his eyes and let Lafayette spread him wide.  

“Strung up with a spreader bar is a good look for you,” Lafayette teases him as he runs his hands along John’s body.  Checking his ankles.  Making sure nothing pulls.  Making sure everything’s just right.  John doesn’t answer. 

Doesn’t want to.  He likes listening.  Likes sagging against the cross and just letting Lafayette do with him as he wants.  They’ll square it up later at some point.  They’ll figure it out. 

Lafayette trails a hand along John’s back and butt.  “I want to make you bleed.”  It’s not something John should feel excitement for.  But as the words register, all John can do is sigh.  Nod his head.  And feel Lafayette’s nails digging into his sides. 

He gets a strap.  Something of good quality, and with a price tag John willfully ignores.  But when he trails the strap along John’s body he cannot help but sigh.  Try to spread himself wider.  Try to do what he can.  “Shh...shh...don’t think.  Don’t think about anything.”  

It’s hard to do.  He wishes it were easier.  “I’ll take you there,” Lafayette promises.  “Good boy.  Good boy.”  The strap slides up and down him one more time. “I hope you don’t mind whip marks.”  He doesn’t get another warning. 

The first strike lands on the meat of his ass and John feels his brain short out.  Silence.  Lafayette’s hand is still on his shoulder, but he’s not stopped brandishing his strap.  It strikes him one on top of the other.  Slicing into his skin and making him burn. 

Lafayette’s hand is warm on his shoulder.  It grounds him.  It lights him up.  Like a beacon in the dark, guiding him home.  One strike, two.  Three.  John’s losing his thread of reality.  He’s slipping into a mindset where he’s not even sure his mind is there anymore. 

He’s making noises.  Sounds.  Lafayette is encouraging him.  Stroking him even as each stroke falls.  “Good boy...look at you...look at you my sweet boy…Mon amour...” John tries to open his eyes, but he can’t quite manage it.   “Don’t hold back,” Lafayette begs him.  “Please...please...I want to hear you scream.”

Another few straps fell.  John’s voice cracks.  He thinks he’s screaming.  Begging.  Crying.  

But he also thinks he’s lying in the arms of his lover, and everything else can just...fade away. 

***

There are voices. 

Voices that aren’t making any sense, because voices are just supposed to be...voice.  Lafayette’s holding the back of John’s neck.  Saying something to someone, and John’s wrists tingle.  Hypersensitive the more he becomes aware that something is— “Mon amour?” 

Lafayette.

He’s holding him close.  Nuzzling the back of his head.  Calm.  Sweet.  Gentle.  “Alex is here.  Do you want me to let you down?”  Alex. 

_ Alex.  _

Alex has never seen him like this. Alex would—

Not care. 

He’d be jealous.  Jealous of  _ John  _ of all people.  He’d want to take John’s place.  There’s a part of John that would even let that happen too.  But John can’t help himself.  He doesn’t want to leave.  He shakes his head.  Just leave him here...but...don’t  _ leave _ him here.  “What would you think about adding a third party?” 

“Kay…” 

“You can’t ask him that right now,” Alex tells Lafayette.  John can just catch the words lingering on the edge of his consciousness.  “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” 

Lafayette still hasn’t let go of his neck, and it feels nice.  Really nice.  He just wants to stay here and—

“Ask...ask him tomorrow,” and that’s that.  John floats.  Lafayette pets. 

Alex...Alex cuddles a little and that feels nice.  Especially when the cuffs come off too soon and John just wants to be held.  And they’re both there, and maybe it’s not sexual, but it’s still wonderful.  He dozes between the people he loves most, and he dreams that none of this will end. 

***

Come morning, John  _ doesn’t  _ mind Alex being there.  He doesn’t.  He doesn’t want to have sex necessarily when he’s like that, but he doesn’t mind.  Alex is sweet and kind.  Petting his hair and getting him snacks.  “I didn’t know you liked that,” he admits. 

“Just...just sometimes…” John doesn’t know how to explain.  Isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put it into words properly.  Lafayette never asked him to put it into words, and John’s incredibly grateful he didn’t have to.  Alex didn’t usually press either.  Which was nice.  But right now...John knew something should be said. 

Fuck if he knew  _ what.  _

Lafayette hugs John from behind.  Kisses the back of his head.  Teases him.  Pokes at Alex.  Makes them all breakfast.  John’s tempted to ask if Aaron knows Alex spent the night.  If Aaron minds his boyfriend sleeping in the same bed as John and Lafayette.  Even platonically. 

It’s not something John has even the slightest bit of desire to think about at the moment.  Alex eventually says something about therapy and needing to go.  Madison meeting him someplace or other.  John watches him leave and can’t help but feel cold. 

His skin chilled in response to something.  One of Lafayette’s psych books would probably tell him exactly what.  “Tell me, mon amour,” his teeth slide from John’s neck to his shoulder.  Sinking in slightly.  

It’s an electric shock.  Snapping through the fog rather than reinforcing it.  “Oh fuck,” John breathes out.  His hand lifts up.  Cups the back of Lafayette’s head as he kisses and sucks at the juncture of John’s throat.  John can’t help the slight whimper that rises up. 

“Yes?”  Lafayette asks frustratingly.  

It’s worth it to him to beg at the moment.  Even knowing it’ll be the last time in a while.  Or perhaps that’s all the more reason to do so.  “Bite me again,” he requests.  

Lafayette grins.  Steps away.  Flicks him in the nose.  “Why don’t you...make me?” Lafayette tells him. 

John’s heart beats faster in his chest.  And his grin turns savage.  

“Okay.” 

***

That’s the thing with Jenga. 

When the tower falls over. 

You pick up the pieces, and build it again. 

 


	2. Add-on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of clarification from last chapter in Lafayette's point of view.

The door opens twenty strokes in.  John doesn’t notice.  Hasn’t noticed a thing since they started.  Hasn’t noticed his breathing or the sounds he’s making, or how he looks more relaxed than Lafayette’s ever seen him.  It takes everything Lafayette has to not draw attention to the sound.  To instead, shift the strap down and stroke John’s muscles.  Standing in the way even as he turns to see who it is. 

Alex.

He’s skipping the stairs two at a time “Hey guys are you—” and he freezes.  Eyes wide.  Mouth falling open.  Taking in the sight of them both.  John’s head bent forward.  Lafayette still blocking him almost entirely from view. 

“Get out,” Lafayette snaps.  Alex doesn’t move.  It’s like he’s been locked in place. Glued to the floor.  John’s breathing is echoing louder in Lafayette’s ears and he makes an effort to stroke down John’s sore limbs.  There’s been too long of a pause.  John’s starting to fidget.  

“Is he…?” Alex’s fingers twitch.  He reaches forward.  Lafayette twists away.  Focuses on John.  It’s hard.  Stopping and starting mid-scene.  He’s not in the right mindset for this interaction let alone John.  Sweet John. 

Who finally was letting Lafayette take him apart piece by piece.  Lafayette curls around him as best he can.  Kisses and nuzzles John’s neck until John leans toward him. “Alex is here.  Do you want me to let you down?” 

John keens.  Twists against him.  Turns so he’s all but pressing his head into Lafayette’s neck.  Mouthing at Lafayette’s skin a little.  He doesn’t want to come down.  But Alex is still there.  Still there watching. Eyes wide.  Hungry and wanton.

He’s staring at the cross, the strap, the marks Lafayette’s left on John’s body.  Licking his lips and shifting where he stands.  He’s not going to leave without getting a far more stern warning, and Lafayette doubts he can manage that while keeping John calm and content.  “What would you think about adding a third party?” he asks.  Because at least he can count on that answer.  

John loves Alex.  Has always wanted Alex in his life.  His heart.  With him in every way.  John sighs.  Lips spreading as he shifts his position.  Humming “Kay…” as his muscles sink down. 

“You can’t ask him that right now,” Alex says tightly.  Lafayette’s fingers clench around John’s body.  “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”  His neck.  Glaring at Alex, Lafayette opens his mouth to snap something, but Alex is stepping forward.  Slowly.

Very slowly.  Still watching in awe.  “Ask...ask him tomorrow.” 

John sighs, and Lafayette strokes his lover’s body.  Slowly relaxes John’s muscles and kisses him gently until he can unhook the straps.  Let John down.  Carry him up to their bed.  

He’s going to have a  _ long  _ talk with Alex about this in the morning.  But right now, John’s first. 

And John is always his priority. 


End file.
